Overdosed
by poveradonna
Summary: In a troubled Gotham City, an initiative is made by Dr. Karen Beecher to help teens recover from drug use. A small test group of five, nicknamed fondly by the doctor as the Teen Titans, is admitted into Titans Tower: a new privately funded rehabilitation center, the primary benefactor of which is Gotham's very own billionaire misanthrope Bruce Wayne.
1. Begin at the Beginning

December 10, 2005

* * *

"And...your name is?" the secretary looked up from her computer. Across her desk was a striking young man, spiky blond hair and dazzling smile. She took a moment to take all of him in. Sexy stubble on his chin, his only flaw would be his large, pointed ears. They were so grotesquely elven that she almost dismissed him-but when her gaze fell upon those hazel eyes, she could not break contact. She was so infatuated that she failed to notice the increasingly impatient parole officer at his side.

"Babe, you're gonna make my buddy over here think this is a scam. Garfield Logan." He drummed his fingers on her desk.

This did not seem to register with her.

"I'm one of the lab rats." He cocked an eyebrow, which only made him more appealing.

"Part of the trial team for drug rehabilitation? Is this ringing any bells?" He tried. He started doubting that this was indeed Titans Tower. The officer behind him coughed loudly, and the secretary blushed.

"Ah-hem. Yes, I have you here. You're a half hour early. I'll escort you to the top floor. Our guards are currently dealing with...a situation. Thank you, officer." She nodded curtly to the mustachioed man in uniform and he grunted.

Garfield turned to shake his hand and smiled. Quietly, Officer Charlie grumbled about how he had all the luck with women.

"What? They only want me for my body," Garfield laughed, "But you-you're a swell guy, Charlie. Any girl would be lucky to have you. Really. I'm glad to have met you, though I can't say I don't wish it was under different circumstances." He winked at the unsmiling officer.

Charlie put a hand down on the young boy's shoulder-that's all he was, really. A boy, a kid, who smoked a blunt in the wrong place at the wrong time. He then proceeded to give the biggest speech in his life. "Listen to me. You can't land yourself in jail again. I've never agreed with the decision to jail petty drug offenders, or any drug offenders, but the law's the law. So get clean and stay clean, alright? Don't waste any more of your life in there."

Garfield nodded, and the two looked at each other in silence for a few moments.

"Hey-Can I come visit you sometime?" Garfield blurted.

Charlie snorted, "So long as you're not wearing jumpers. Why would you want to spend time with a grumpy old man anyway?"

_Because you're like the father I never had._

Instead of being honest, he stuck to what he did best-clowning around. Garfield batted his lashes and swiveled his hips, "I'm a sucker for a man in uniform."

Charlie's mustache twitched.

"Okay, okay. You helped me out in there...I'm not the kind of guy who takes that shit for granted." he said sheepishly, staring intently at the floor.

Charlie shrugged. "I was just doing my job."

Garfield wanted to tell him how he did much more than just his job, how he probably would have died under another officer's watch. He wanted to look the officer straight in the eyes and tell him all that and how grateful he was, but before he could muster up the courage the police officer was already walking away, and the secretary was by his side, gently tugging his arm along. As they made their way to the elevator, Garfield took one last glance at the retreating back of the officer. The elevator doors slid shut and he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He would tell him later. Or write him. Garfield wasn't awfully good at expressing how he felt. _I can't believe I told him I'm not the kind of guy who "takes that shit for granted". I'm practically a modern day Shakespeare._

Garfield continue to agonize over his horrible "thank you" until they finally reached the top floor. The doors of the elevator parted, and a sharp looking woman introduced herself to him as Dr. Karen Beecher.

"What's up, Doc?" he shook her hand, and Dr. Beecher smiled faintly.

"Hello, Garfield. It's good to have you on the team."

Funny how he always imagined this moment, but with another mouth saying those words.

* * *

**A/N: **

***cough cough his dad cough cough* **

**So I love Garfield so much that I decided this should be the first chapter. If you're one of the few ****people who saw the original first two chapters, I apologize. I'll be using them a little later on.**

**A nod to the Twihards-your M fanfiction is perfection. I have learned much from your kind.**

**(I noticed a lot of spelling errors that I swear weren't on the doc I was writing. That's what I get for writing this at 1 in the morning. Please point out any typos you see-I really hate them.)**

**There is much, much more to come! **


	2. Terra

Dr. Beecher led him down the long hallway, informing him of procedures, insuring him that she would go over them again when he tried to take notes. The doors were a sleek white and slid open with handprint sensors. Garfield noticed from a distance one door that was different. It was a normal door made of mahogany. They were walking towards it. "Those were the original doors of this building before we repurposed it. We would have replaced it but our psychologist requested that we leave it as is. She's who you'll be seeing now."

Garfield turned the door handle, expecting to see some old hag with red-rimmed glasses. But the blonde lady who was sitting at the desk was definitely not old. She had to be in her twenties. And hot. She was really hot. He stood frozen at the door and let out a low whistle. Dr. Beecher laughed, "I doubt she'll have any trouble with you. After your thirty minute session, meet me at my office." She handed him a blank white card and walked briskly away.

"You can come in." The lady said.

_Okay, Garfield. Be cool. Be cool_. He slid his hands over his dress shirt before walking in with a swagger.

The lady tried to stifle a laugh at his absurd strut. He reddened and stopped immediately.

"Sorry." He slid into his seat. _So much for me being a ladies man, Charlie._

She smiled, "Don't be. I could really use a laugh right now."

"Really?!" He perked up, "I'm great at making people laugh. What has four legs, is green and fuzzy, and if it falls out of a tree can kill you?"

"I don't know...a beast, or something?"

"A pool table! Do you wanna hear this word I made up?"

"Sure?" She was surprised at his enthusiasm.

"Plagiarism." His face was deadly serious.

At that she laughed incredulously and his face lit up with a toothy grin.

"See? I can always make people laugh," he said proudly, crossing his arms.

She giggled and wiped away a tear, "Well, it's nice to meet you. I'm Terra Markov."

"I'm Garfield. Garfield Logan."

She waved his file that was sitting on her desk, "I know that."

"Oh. Yeah." he said sheepishly.

"So, let's get down to business…"

"What's the situation?" Garfield blurted.

"What?"

"The situation. The secretary downstairs said that all the guards are dealing with a situation."

At this, Terra's mood visibly worsened, "The guy who came before you. His name was Dick. He sure as hell was one."

Garfield nodded, but he looked confused.

"I told him to write a report-you're going to have to write one too, at the end of this, it's part of the protocol here-this is what he wrote." She knew this was not the information Garfield was interested in, but she needed to fume to somebody, and she could hardly do that to her boss. Dr. Beecher didn't look it, but Terra could sense she was insanely angry over what had happened earlier today.

She slid the single piece of paper to him.

* * *

**Account of Titans Tower Rehabilitation Initiative**

**December 10th, 2005 **

**Session 1 with Terra Markov, Tower's Resident Psychologist ****(****Terra Sees Dick for the First Time)**

**Terra is worryingly inexperienced and has no control over even the most docile of subjects such as myself. I request that Dr. Karen Beecher replace her with someone more qualified in treating patients. Someone who is not a recent graduate only qualified in writing doctoral theses, however brilliant. **

**Signed, **

**_Richard Grayson_**

* * *

Garfield laughed, "Funny title."

"You mean stupid, immature title," she pouted.

He looked up at her and smiled, "You have to admit it's pretty clever."

She conceded that it was and was grateful when he looked back down. She felt the heat of a blush on her cheeks. He was pretty cute when he smiled. And he smiled all the time. She watched him read the letter. He looked amused, then aghast, then shocked. He looked up at her again, "You're a doctor?"

"Yeah." She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Wooow. Smart and beautiful," he said under his breath. Terra blushed.

"At least he thinks your theses are brilliant." He handed the sheet back to her.

"I was surprised at him giving me even that. He treated me like I was an idiot in our session."

"You know what they say. If a boy's mean to you, that means he likes you."

"Does that mean you don't like me?" she said before she could stop herself.

"I said_ if a boy's mean to you_. I'm a _man_."

Terra took a sudden interest in straightening her files._ Calm yourself, Terra. This is borderline unprofessional._

"So what happened with the guards?"

"Huh? Oh, Dick checked out of my session early and managed to get through security. He ran out to the street, and the guards followed him in pursuit. God knows where he is now."

* * *

**A/N:**

**1\. Ah, even in my own fanfiction, I hate Terra. But I love Garfield and Dick to death.**

**2\. I died a little at "a beast...or something?" *no shame* *i do this all for you, dear readers* *jk i'm probably the only one who found that clever/funny***

**3\. Can some kind soul tell me how to make Doc Manager stop butchering my formatting? "Session 1" was supposed to be crossed out, but the strikethrough wouldn't save and that makes me sad.**

**4\. I was really only expecting my mom to read this, ****so the amount of views this is getting is exciting. It's also making me want to curl up in a ball and cry. Too much pressure. **

**5\. I know my writing sucks, but if you want to post a review telling me about it that would be great!**


	3. Earlier That Day

**Oh god, my beta is going to kill me. I told her I'd release the next chapter in a week and here I am dumping two in one day. I just couldn't help it-forgive me, M! **

**After this, don't expect to hear from me or any of the Titans for at least a week.**

**I just thought of this: Wouldn't it be hilariously ironic if Terra got stoned? ****_Because she turned into a statue in the TV show. _****I'll see myself out.**

**This chapter is a little longer (the last ones were over 800 words. that is 300 words longer than my college application essays. holy crap i just checked this is 2,400 words. wow.)**

**I've never written fan fiction before, and I'm not writing what I know, in case you were wondering. **

**Immediately after the great escape, I recommend you put on The Weather Girls' "It's Raining Men." *cackles evilly***

* * *

"Hello, Richard. I'm Terra Markov, the psychologist at this center. I'm going to be working with you individually and the rest of the trial team for the next couple of months. It's nice to meet you." Terra smiled, fully aware that he was by far the easiest patient of all five she would deal with. Relatively short-term use of steroids meant he had no trouble with addiction. It was well known at the Tower that he was only here at the demands of his adopted father, millionaire misanthrope Bruce Wayne. Once Mr. Wayne had found out about his son's petty drug use, he had this entire place built and staffed in a fit, giving Dr. Karen Beecher free reign on the condition his son be in the trial program.

Richard leaned towards her desk, propping his head up with his hands. He did not speak, he only stared at her with an expression of intense started to shift under his gaze. She cleared her throat, hoping he would stop staring uncomfortably at her. He didn't blink.

Terra struggled to regain her composure. "Would you...like to introduce yourself?" She ventured, hating the air of uncertainty she spoke with.

"You know everything you need to know about me in that file already, don't you? Or did they not teach you how to do that at Gotham U?" He sneered.

She froze for a moment, wondering how he could have known the school she graduated from, until she remembered that her degrees were hanging on the wall. Seeming to read her thoughts, he rolled his eyes and snatched the large folder that was laying between them. He kicked his feet up on the desk and flipped it open. She gaped at him, utterly shocked. She hadn't expected him to display this kind of behavior; she had seen footage of him attending multiple galas all throughout the city, interviews in which he was the perfect gentleman. A polished smile, perfectly gelled hair, always impeccably dressed in fitted tuxedo suits. He was cool, collected, mature. Most of the city's celebrities avoided the media like the plague, but he would always listen to their shouted questions and give a statement or politely refuse to answer before slipping into his personal limousine. He was Gotham's perfect gentlemen; girls hung posters of him over their beds and so did their moms, as if he were a rockstar and not a representative of Wayne Enterprises. Praised by many, criticized by none. He was flawless as far as anyone outside of Titans Tower knew.

She realized then that this steroid stint was probably not Richard's only offense. His other escapades were probably covered up the same way this was being covered up, with loads of cash. Hush money. For a moment, she relished the idea of releasing his file to the media-it would be his first scandal. But of course her logical and rational side brought up the incredible point of the likelihood that she would be found dead in the bottom of a lake if she gave in to that temptation. She had learned the hard way that it was better not to anger those more powerful than she.

She swallowed her discontent, and tried touching on something, anything that would catch Richard's interest. But he had turned his full attention to the folder, cutting off attempts at conversation almost instantaneously with snide remarks. It was becoming excruciatingly clear his perfect gentleman persona was all an act. Why did she not consider the possibility that this disgustingly rich and handsome teenage boy would be a complete douche? She wanted to bang her head against a wall.

Richard glanced at his report. It had nothing but his picture, results of medical examinations, and a brief paragraph describing the history of his drug use. He flipped the page, and Terra started to protest.

"I'm sorry Richard, those are files of the other members of the trial, and they're confidential." She held out her hand for him to give it back.

Richard gave no indication of noticing her at all. Terra was not very interesting. The other trial members, however, were very interesting. Their reports were considerably longer than his, and while his picture was from a photo op that was to be the cover of the next edition of Forbes magazine, their pictures were all mugshots. A ruggedly handsome blonde with hazel eyes was holding up his numbered sign with a cocky grin on his face, revealing the sharpest canines Richard had ever seen. Possession of marijuana.

A young black man, severely disfigured. His left eye was a red LED light and the quarter of his head surrounding it was a metal molded to match the contours of his face. The other three quarters of his face were flesh. His jaw was well defined, chiseled, serious. He looked peculiarly dignified in his mugshot, and Richard was reminded of paintings of grave-looking generals that hung in the many hallways of Wayne Manor. His right eyebrow furrowed, intensifying the stare of his one eye. Looking straight ahead. Numerous counts of possessing drugs and battery.

Terra was drumming her fingers on the desk impatiently. He flipped the page, taking mental photographs he would mull over later.

Richard let out a low whistle. This girl was a stunner, even with was quite possibly the worst spray tan he had ever seen. And he had been to New Jersey. Her skin was a glowing orange, almost radioactive. She was smiling confusedly, one hand holding up her sign and the other toying with a strand of her bright red hair. Possession of every psychedelic drug Richard knew of and more, though he only needed to look at the crown of daisies she was wearing to guess as much.

The last report was formatted differently-it was not a mugshot and a list of offenses, it looked like a medical log. This was also a girl, but he was unable to tell from the photograph-he had to look at the listed sex. Richard shuddered. Her mouth was slightly parted and her eyes were unfocused. Her head lolled to one side. She was a _corpse_, practically every bone in her body jutted out harshly, and her was skin a sickly shade of gray. She looked to be on the verge of death. She couldn't possibly be a part of the trial team. She was too far gone.

Terra was standing behind him. She gently took the folder from his limp hands. Terra saw which file he had turned to, closed it gently and walked back to her desk. Richard took only a few moments to recover.

"How the hell is that girl going to be all right here?" He demanded.

"We have a team of the finest physicians in the country, all experienced with drug-related complications."

"That looks more than just a 'complication'. And what about you, are you part of that team? Have a lot of experience with this?"

Terra glared at him but held her tongue. She had just finished her doctorate for Psychology at Gotham University. She was creating a buzz internationally with the research she had done in the field, but had little practice at being a psychologist. This was her first job. She clenched and unclenched her fists, reminding herself to keep her cool.

Richard could read her like a book. This girl didn't know what she was up against. She couldn't even keep her temper under control with him, the nonthreatening non-addict.

"I can handle it." She finally said, "Thanks for your concern. Now take this and start filling out a report of this session."

He scoffed at that, but took the paper and quickly scribbled something down. Suddenly, he dropped it on the floor and slammed his hands down on her desk. He leaned in so close that their faces were an inch apart.

"You went to a Catholic school, got straight A's and a free ride to Gotham University, graduated with honors. Then went to get a Master's. Never took your nose out of a book or stepped out of the lab the entire time you were there. I can tell you're...inexperienced." He drew out the last word, let his insinuation hang in the air. Terra blushed and Richard had confirmation. She was a virgin.

"A goody-goody who did everything right. And despite this and the fact you have virtually no experience counseling, you still think you can 'handle' counseling people who have had vastly different experiences than you. I'm curious to know how someone like you slipped through the cracks. I'm sure my dad would be as well." He rose from his chair and turned to leave. He walked across the room, expecting her to rise angrily and stop him. But she was as immobile as a statue in a state of panic.

Only as Richard twisted the creaky doorknob did Terra come to her senses.

"You can't leave. You still have twenty minutes left for this session, Richard." She called to him. He paused, his hand still resting on the doorknob.

"Call me Dick."

The door slammed behind him. Terra couldn't help but think the name was fitting.

* * *

A guard standing by the door made a move to restrain him, but Dick wasn't intimidated by the 300 pound man rushing towards him. Ever since he had been taken in by Bruce, he had been trained by masters of all different styles of martial arts. In one swift motion the guard was flung across the hallway. Dick got on the elevator and calmly walked out the front door, passing a few oblivious guards on his way. He made a mental note of their faces-they would never find a job at Wayne Enterprises again. Then he was out on the street and in his element. He blended in with a family of four as guards came trickling out of the tower. He slipped unnoticed onto a bus that was taking off for the Kubrick District.

It was packed-the only space left was next to a redheaded teenager whose face was pressed against the glass. Dick slid next to him silently and listened to the sound of his feathery snoring and the general rabble of public transportation. The boy, still asleep, groaned and propped his head on Dick's shoulder. Dick sat tensely, not knowing if he should wake the boy or just bear his weight for the remainder of the trip. Minutes ticked by slowly. Dick could feel the boy's hot breath on his neck. _His neck._ His neck had never felt so distinct from the rest of his body. It prickled unbearably with each inhalation. And exhalation. And inhalation-it was slowly driving him insane. Just as Dick resolved to shrug the boy off, the redhead's unconscious head fell to his lap. He sighed, thankful for the relief. Then the boy started getting cozy, shifting left and right. To his terror, Dick found he was fostering a boner. Instead of giving over to his panic, he approached this dilemma rationally. It was completely natural that this would happen with such a disturbance, right? Anything rubbing against him would have-and, sometimes it just happened out of the blue. This was probably one of those times. He swallowed uncomfortably and tried willing it down. He couldn't, and he started panicking again. _What will this guy think, waking up and finding himself on my lap like this? _He did the only thing he could think of and pretended to be asleep, but he misjudged how long public transportation took to get from point A to point B. The stress that had built up for the past couple of days was getting to him, and he began to actually doze off.

* * *

The redhead nudged gently at the remarkably pretty boy. Pretty boy's face pulled into an authoritative frown, the kind the redhead usually received from his dad, his boss, his pastor. When he pictured God in his mind, he saw that frown. An ever-so-slight downturn of the corners of a tight-lipped mouth. It seemed this stranger was dissatisfied with him even in sleep. He liked it much better when the stranger's mouth was forming unuttered words from his dreams.

Dick opened his eyes reluctantly. His mind began to whir and take mental images of his surroundings. The redhead boy was awake. And Dick's body was behaving itself. And this was the last stop. Good.

"I woke up and saw I was all over you. Must have been dreaming you were my girlfriend." The boy smiled ruefully. He didn't really have a girlfriend. "I'm Roy."

"Dick."

"Where are you headed?"

_Either this guy is remarkably nonchalant about meeting heirs to multi-billion dollar enterprises or he has no idea who I am. _

Though who would expect him to be anything other than a normal teenage boy? Dick was simply wearing jeans and a t-shirt his butler had chosen to help him "fit in". He was riding a bus (for the first time in his life, but no one knew that) to the rundown side of town.

"Nowhere, really. I just got on this bus to get away for a while."

"Well then, maybe I could show you around." Roy grinned in a way that made Dick feel strange and giddy and terrified. He knew he should go back to the tower-those useless guards were probably going crazy looking for him, and if word of his stunt got round to Bruce, he'd be in loads of trouble.

All this went through his head as he maintained a mask of composure and stoicism. Dick shrugged lazily, "Why not? It's not like I have somewhere to be."

* * *

**BOOM. Or should I say Boo-yah? *drops keyboard***


	4. Gay or European?

**Listen to:**

**Baby Blue by We Were Evergreen**

* * *

"Where are we going?" Dick asked. The two were striding down a dirty sidewalk with their hands in their pockets. Roy found that he rather liked the sound of his voice. It was gravelly, but somehow still boyish. He grinned, "That's for me to know and you to find out."

At that Dick was silent. He could have waited to see what Roy was planning, but he hated being left in the dark. His mind began to whir and his eyes darted back and forth, taking pictures. It took a few minutes for him to piece together the information he had gathered. When he found his answer, he had to bite back a smile.

"We're going to a concert at Wilde Park." Dick stated matter-of-factly.

Roy stopped dead in his tracks, his mouth gaping open, "How did you know that?"

Dick gestured behind him to the plethora of posters stuck to streetlights and buildings.

"Oh, you just guessed! You almost had me there, Sherlock."

Dick looked genuinely offended, "I never 'just guess.' You're wearing their t-shirt."

Roy looked down at what he was wearing. His hoodie was halfway zipped, with the very same plus and minus symbol of the band just barely visible. He grinned, "So, you were checking me out."

"I wasn't checking you out. I was noticing what you were wearing. Do you see that girl with pink hair down the block? Her shoes are untied."

"You're checking _her_ out?"

"What? No."

"So you don't check out girls."

"Now you're putting words in my mouth." Dick crossed his arms, miffed.

"I'm getting that you would rather have me put something else in your mouth." Roy said slyly.

Dick choked and starting laughing. It was alarming-he rarely laughed at anything, but Roy had the same snarky and inappropriate sense of humor as he did.

Roy watched this silently. He had expected Dick to frown disapprovingly again, but instead he had smiled-he had laughed. Roy was no amateur detective like his new friend, but he could deduce from Dick's shocked expression that this was not his usual behavior. Roy wondered how anyone could be strung up so tight all the time without breaking.

Dick was still laughing, happily thinking that he would have said the exact same thing._Though I would have made it hurtful_, he thought, thinking back on his encounter with Terra. Dick's laughter subsided then, and they began walking again until they reached an intersection.

"Give me a second to check my phone-I don't know remember if we should turn right or left here." Roy said.

Earlier Dick had memorized a map of the area near the bus stop they were dropped off at, and after Roy entered his passcode incorrectly for the second time, he lost all his patience.

"It's this way." Dick said gruffly. He linked arms with Roy's and walked briskly to the left, dragging him along. Roy did not protest to this. Dick, for having such a thin and wiry frame, was surprisingly strong. After they had crossed the street, to Roy's disappointment, Dick let go.

They walked for a couple more minutes before seeing the wrought iron gate emblazoned with the name of their destination. Dick discovered that Wilde "Park" was really just a large square of grass right smack in the middle of the Kubrick District. Currently, it was overflowing with hipsters, guys with beards and beanies, girls with denim underwear and crop tops. And people were smoking left and right.

_Great, by the time this is over I'll be high from second-hand smoke. And they'll probably run a drug test on me when I get back._

Roy saw Dick pinch his nose and laughed. He fished out a questionably stained bandana from one of his pockets and held it out to Dick, "Do you want this?" He asked. Dick took it but eyed it distastefully, muttering an undeniably ungrateful "thanks." After a minute or two he tied it over his nose and mouth.

"How do I look?", he asked, his voice muffled from the bandana.

"I dunno. I think a Zorro mask would fit you better," Roy snorted.

"Ha-ha." came the muffled reply. With only his eyes visible, Roy couldn't tell if Dick was unamused or if he just had resting bitch face.

"Hey! Here the come!" Roy clasped his arm tightly and bounced up and down. Dick froze for a millisecond at the contact, then relaxed.

Two identical figures emerged from the foggy stage to cheers from the half-stoned audience. One held a guitar, one held a trumpet. They both wore a ridiculous ensemble of leather pants, suspenders, and aviator goggles. On the guitarist's shirtless chest there was an enormous tattoo of a plus sign. The trumpeter had a minus tattoo in the same place.

"HEY HERMANOS! If you haven't guessed, I'm Màs!" He pointed at his chest.

His partner laughed, "And I'm Ménos."

"IT'S TIME TO GET YOUR GRIND ON," Màs cried to a very receptive audience. They had machines all around them, and as Ménos tinkered with one, the speakers blared a thumping bass beat. Roy and Dick were shoved into the mosh pit by a wave of grinders who sought to be closer to the stage. Dick was shocked to the core. The only concerts he had attended were orchestral. And it appeared that the codes of conduct were very, very different.

_Did I miss the memo saying that music makes dry humping publicly acceptable?_

He was surrounded by gyrating bodies, a mix of weed and sweat made the air heavy and hot.

_Disgusting._

Roy beckoned for him to come and dance, but Dick shook his head and stood his ground. He had never been so completely out of his comfort zone as he was at this moment, and it made him callous and punishing. He started to shove his way out of the crowd. But then he glanced back and saw Roy having a good time. The way he was dancing without restraint or worry made him feel miserable. He wished he could dance that freely to the music, which he found to be surprisingly good. Más sputtered out a mix of rapid-fire English and Spanish rap and shredded his classical guitar. Ménos' mouth never stopped moving-it was either on his trumpet or singing along. It was a little bit of everything-Rock, Pop, Americana, Jazz, Mariachi-but somehow it worked. He watched Roy dance with a group of girls who were complete strangers, smiling at them just as he smiled at him-something inside him went off when they began to grind on him. He found himself squeezing past a couple that were intent on plastering themselves together and grabbing on to Roy's arm. Dick didn't know why he felt such a strange compulsion to stop what was happening.

"He's with me." He said, the words leaving his mouth almost without him realizing.

"What?" They couldn't hear him over the blaring music.

Dick remembered that he was still wearing that ridiculous bandana and tugged it down frustratedly, "I said, he's dancing with me!" He yelled.

The girls backed off rather quickly then and simply ground with each other. Dick stormed away from the mosh pit. Roy followed him.

"Okay, that the hell was that for?" Roy asked irritatedly.

"Sorry. I just-Actually, no. I don't know why I did that." Dick stared at the ground, fully realizing the consequences of the impulse he had acted on,"God, I was such a cockblock. I don't normally act like that-I'm really sorry."

Roy snorted, "A cockblock?"

Dick looked up at him, "Yeah, a cockblock. As in, an obstacle to sex?"

"I did not want to hook up with any of them. I dance with girls just to have fun."

"Why would you dance like that with someone if you didn't want to hook up with them later?" Dick asked, puzzled.

Roy ignored his question,"And anyway, the person I _wanted_ to grind on was too busy turning up their nose at all this." He gestured to the concert.

Dick looked at him blankly, wondering who that girl was and how he could have missed her. Roy waited for a light bulb to go off. None did.

Roy sighed,"I want to grind with you."

Dick blushed deeply at the thought of it, "I'm not dancing like that. I'm not dancing in there at all."

"Didn't you _say_ you were dancing with me? And here I thought you were a man of your word. I guess I'll find those girls again and tell them you're full of shit." Roy turned away and started walking towards the pit. Dick caught his arm, "Stop. Okay. I'll do it." Roy shook his head as they made their way back to the mass of grinding bodies.

Dick liked to think that his flushed appearance came from exertion and not the fact that Roy was pressed up so close behind him. A slow, unbearable heat was building as Roy pushed and gyrated his hips. It felt good. _Why does this feel so good?_ He was now acting like the other teens he had scoffed at, moaning in pleasure, his eyes fluttering shut. He ignored the voice in his head telling him how many things were wrong with this situation and focused on how good he felt. Roy's hands held him, sometimes just barely brushing his skin, other times clawing their way through his shirt. He was harder than he had ever been in his life, and he was not the only one.

The concert ended too soon, and the sweaty, exhausted mass of teenagers scattered to buy merchandise or get a room.

"I want to go get a shirt." Dick said, his lust forgotten.

"So you had a good time after all, huh?" Roy grinned, "The line's too long. Let's go and meet the band instead."

"Can we do that?" Dick was dubious.

"Yeah, they're my friends." Roy led Dick backstage. The bodyguard recognized him and let the two through.

The twins looked much less outlandish after they had changed out of their costumes.

Más greeted Roy, "Hey, ese. ¿Quien es él, su novio?"

"No, solamente un amigo." Roy replied.

"Pienso que va a cambiar." Más wiggled his eyebrows.

Dick rolled his eyes and waved to remind them of his presence. "Mucho gusto, me llamo Dick."

"¡Dios! Él habla Éspañol." Ménos laughed.

Más extended his hand, "Well then, it's nice to meet you. I'm Bernardo, but you can call me Nardo. My brother here is Enrique."

Ménos called out, "Call me 'Enry'."

"You know, you look very familiar," Nardo mused.

"I get that a lot," Dick shrugged.

"So? How was the show?" Enry asked.

"I didn't think I'd like it all, but I did. I really did," Dick said sincerely, "You two are incredibly talented. I can see you playing at Carnegie Hall."

Nardo snorted, "I'd be happy if we just got a gig at the Wayne Amphitheater."

"You'll get there," Roy assured his friends.

Enry tossed a bag to Dick, "So you don't have to wait in line."

It was a t-shirt in his size. Dick was shocked at the gesture. He rarely received presents. He flashed a rare smile at the twin, took off his old shirt and put it on.

Nardo whistled, "_Dios mío_, you're ripped!" Enry nudged Roy, who was pointedly looking away as a faint blush crept up his skin. Dick smirked when he saw Roy's embarrassment,"I do martial arts."

"Karate, Taekwondo?" Nardo asked.

"Both," Dick said simply.

_And wrestling, boxing, judo, aikido, fencing-_

"Then I guess it won't be hard for you to help us carry all this equipment back to our van, sí?"

Enry smiled deviously, "It's the least you can do to repay our kindness of giving you a free shirt."

Roy patted Dick's shoulder, "They pulled the same thing on me. That's how we became friends."

* * *

After thirty minutes of indentured servitude, Richard hoisted the last speaker into the van. He wiped the sweat beading on his forehead with the back of his hand. Nardo and Enry had fallen asleep from exhaustion when they were halfway finished loading.

"C'mon, before they wake up and ask you to disassemble the stage," Roy whispered in his ear. The two tripped over themselves as they ran madly out of the park.

* * *

"What flavor did you get?" Roy asked. He had talked Dick in to going to a new gelato shop down the street.

"Avocado Lemon."

Roy made a face,"That sounds terrible."

"It's not. It's actually quite good. What," Dick pointed with his spoon at Roy's bowl, "on earth is that?"

"Cotton Candy with oreos, gummy bears, sour worms, chocolate-covered raisins, chocolate malt balls, sprinkles, and chocolate syrup on top."

"I hope you are preparing yourself for life as a diabetic."

"I hope you are preparing yourself for life as my devoted nurse."

Roy had scooted his chair over to Richard's side of the table and took a picture of them both.

Roy looked chipper as always in the snapshot while Dick was caught halfway unaware by it, with a shocked and angry expression on his face.

"Cute, huh? Here, let me have your number so I can send it to you."

Dick recited it twice as Roy fumbled with his phone.

"Sent! Check and make sure you got it."

Dick pulled out his flip phone. 4 new messages. One was from Roy, the other three were from a very angry Dr. Beecher.

**Return to the tower immediately.**

**Your movements are being tracked. **

**We will find you and there will be consequences.**

Dick frowned.

"Is something wrong?" Roy asked.

"No. Everything's fine," Dick said calmly, setting his phone down.

"Let me try some of your nasty-ass gelato, then." Roy pointed at his opened mouth expectantly.

Dick reluctantly fed him a spoonful.

Roy had finished eating, but as Dick drew the spoon back he found resistance. Roy grasped the edges of their small table and started sucking on it obscenely, winking at him. Licking it slowly. And then sucking again. Dick could feel the eyes of everyone in the store and tugged on the spoon harder.

"If you don't let go, I swear I will pull it out with all my force along with your front teeth," Dick growled through gritted teeth.

The resistance he had faced disappeared, and he almost fell out of his chair.

_And there it is_, Roy thought, _I've done it again_. Dick was frowning that same frown.

The hurt look on Roy's face made Dick stare intently at his half-melted gelato.

"Look, I don't get what that was about, but maybe try not to do that kind of thing in public."

"Why? Are you embarrassed?"

"That just wasn't funny," Dick said.

"It wasn't supposed to be funny. It was supposed to turn you on."

"Stop that. Can't you speak seriously for once?"

"Okay then, Dick. I'll speak seriously. I'm gay. I'm attracted to you."

Dick started, "Didn't you say you had a girlfriend?"

"I was practically giving you a blow-job in my sleep. What would _you_ say to a stranger?"

"Well then, why did you bother spending the day with some stranger?"

Roy smiled wickedly,"You're handsome. And I woke up to your boner. I figured since you were awake at the time..." Roy raised an eyebrow.

"Look, I'm sorry-I'm not gay. At all. I've dated women, slept with women, and I've enjoyed it."

"You would have enjoyed this more if you weren't so scared of being together with a guy."

"I'm not scared. I just want to be friends."

"You're the biggest coward I've ever met. Maybe you're telling yourself your boner on the bus had nothing to do with me. Then what about the concert? Were you not turned on then?" Roy wasn't angry. He almost pitied Dick for being so detached from himself.

Dick was silent.

"Maybe you never knew until now, but I doubt it. I think you just ignored it. And you just 'slept' with women, though you didn't really enjoy it."

Dick thought back to those nights. He met the girls at galas. They were all very eager to please. He would take them to nice hotels, thrust mechanically as they moaned in pleasure, and when they fell asleep he would leave diamond earrings on his pillow and head back for Wayne Manor. It was expected of him to make one of these girls his girlfriend, so he picked a beautiful Middle Eastern heiress named Zatanna to date casually. Now that they had broken up, the media was speculating who the next potential love interest of the most eligible bachelor in Gotham would be.

He hadn't hated doing it, really. But in retrospect it did seem like more of a chore than something he enjoyed.

"Am I wrong?" Roy asked.

Dick was going to answer, but someone was standing right at their table. Dr. Beecher. She wasn't wearing her usual lab coat or suit, but a formal yellow and black striped dress with black heels. She had come dressed to kill. The expression on her face certainly made it look that way.

"Hello, Richard," she said, her face murderous but her voice cool as water.

"Good to see you." Dick said, stalling to think of something he could say. He didn't want Roy to know he was in rehab. He didn't even bother telling himself it was because he didn't want it leaking to the press. He just didn't want Roy to have a worse opinion of him.

"Who's this?" Roy asked.

Dr. Beecher opened her mouth, but Richard cut in, "This is my dear, dear mother who adopted me when I was young and raised me as her own. She was expecting me home quite a while ago."

If this statement shocked the doctor, she did not let it show, "Yes, I was. And so were your _brothers_ and _sisters._ We were all waiting for you," she said pointedly.

"Sorry I ran out in a fit, mom."

"That's all right. Now say goodbye to your friend."

Dick looked sheepishly at Roy, "See you la-bye."

Roy watched, bewildered, as the inexplicably terrifying petite black woman gripped Dick's arm and dragged him away.

* * *

"Thanks for going along with that," Dick said as Dr. Beecher navigated through traffic in her beat-up Pinto.

"I don't why I did. It's not like you've ever done me any favors. This is the second time you've escaped my custody."

She thought back to that day.

* * *

_"You're going." Mr. Wayne said quietly._

_His back was turned to his adopted son Richard. The boy clenched his teeth, knowing that there was no arguing with him. His father's word was law. The wall of screens in the huge office was the only light in the otherwise pitch black room, illuminating the triumphant face of Dr. Beecher who was hanging back by the door. There was a force between the duo akin to two like-sided magnets being forced against each other. The man drummed his fingers on his desk once, a warning. The boy relented and walked to the doctor who firmly grasped his shoulder, claiming her prize. He did not protest as he was dragged along by the her. He was moodily silent as they left Wayne Manor and boarded a ferry. He sat in lotus position on the deck, unmoving. The doctor grasped the rails and tried to stifle her seasickness._

_The captain of the ferry announced that there were five minutes left until they reached Gotham City._

_The doctor glanced to her left, expecting to see the immobile form of her captive. But there was nothing. He was gone. She ran over to where he was, searched frantically across the turgid waves. Disembodied laughter seemed to surround her from all sides. It was a boyish chuckle, almost a giggle, as if to say: I win._

_Dr. Beecher sighed and flipped open her phone to dial the number for the coast guard._

* * *

"That won't happen again," Dick promised.

"Good. And you'll properly fill out your report of today and every day after it."

Dick agreed to this. He was silent for a few minutes before his curiosity got the best of him,"What's with the get-up, by the way?"

"I had to...request a couple of favors to find you."

"Oh," Dick said, wondering what that entailed.

"Now," Dr. Beecher said as she pulled onto the parking deck of the tower, "let's go meet the rest of the team."

* * *

**A/N: **

**¡ l o l at my pitiful attempt at Spanish ! **

**Sorry for the wait-I had college apps and volunteering and I had no time to sleep, but I did try writing a little bit every day. (And the result was like 3,500 words! go me.)**

**This chapter is 100% un-beta'd.**

**Any Naruto Abridged fans up in here? So tempted to put in Zabuza jokes when Dick was wearing the bandana. So, So tempted. "I'm gay!" "Good for you!"**

**~~If superheroes can't be recognized just by wearing a mask, then Richard Grayson can fly under the radar without a tux. Just suspend your belief, okay? What do you want from me?~~**

**As to the question about pairings:**

**DickxRoy: Yes, they're gay. Surprise! **

**StarfirexEverythingthatbreathes: Ahhh, writing her scenes are so painfully awkward for me. Be prepared for the next chapter, folks.**

**Garfield and Raven initially have different love interests, but they're definitely ending up together. That is 100000% certain because that's what I planned the story around. I love them, okay? **

**Cyborgx?: I really don't know as of now. Should he have a thing with Dr. Beecher/Bumblebee? **

** MasxMenos: Just kidding...maybe.**

**See you soon! **


	5. The Legend of Kora

**LEMON WARNING**  
**Please, if you are of the Teen Titans Go! Generation, leave and don't come back until you're no longer innocent.**

* * *

The guards who had let Dick get past them earlier were now pointedly not making eye-contact with him as he re-entered the Tower with Dr. Beecher. The doctor stopped by the secretary's desk.  
"Have the other members of the team arrived?" Dr. Beecher asked.  
The secretary shifted uncomfortably.  
"Victor Stone and Garfield Logan are waiting upstairs."  
"And what about the girls?"  
"Raven Roth's condition worsened-she didn't respond well to the Harleqetrium. Her doctors sent a detailed report. I left her updated medical file on your desk."  
Dr. Beecher wasn't pleased about this, but she had expected as much.  
"And? What about Kora?"  
"She hasn't arrived. I called and confirmed with the jail-she left with her parole officer over two hours whereabouts are unknown."  
Dr. Beecher rubbed her temples, "This is not how I wanted to start out my program."  
Dick felt himself pitying the doctor-having to deal with two runaways in one day just wasn't fair to anyone.  
"Come along, Richard. You'll meet the two of them for now."

* * *

"You must take me to the Tower," Kora nagged him as they walked down the street.  
"I will. My wife's expecting me home in three hours. Until then, you're mine." And so the two checked in to a Motel 6.

* * *

The parole officer was moaning deep and throaty noises of ecstasy. Kora's head fit snugly in between his legs. Her long arms rippled as she grasped his thighs, sucking harder, and his moans crescendoed in the tiny room. He was a young man, almost attractive, and his body was lean and muscular. She contemplated this with his flesh in her mouth. The officer began to squirm, making strangled noises and breaking her train of thought. She clamped her mouth firmly down and felt him struggle, wondering if he could explode that way-death by unreleased orgasm. But he did not die; instead he released futile life. She swallowed grimly.

In prison, no one suspected her to be anything other than an angel. She was beautiful, and too often beauty is associated with goodness. She looked at the men with her big, wide eyes and gave them a smile that melted even some of the hardened officers. A few breathed dankly into her face, unconsciously gravitating towards her. They guiltily lusted over her-they saw something they believed to be good and wanted to corrupt it. The officer who she was the now was the only one who acted on that evil desire. One day, they were briefly left alone in a storage room. He took one wild look at her and locked the door. He had a hungry look in his eyes, and she was silently thrilled. He asked her politely, and she pretended to be embarrassed. He promised to be gentle. "This is my first time." The words slipped easily from her mouth. She blushed and looked away. It was in that instant he threw himself on top of her, and she arched her neck in delight. He unzipped her jumpsuit and she gasped, covering herself with her bare arms he roughly pulled away. He was not gentle at all to his Lolita, but she didn't mind. She clawed at his skin, panting and gasping each time he pushed himself farther inside her. They were rolling around the floor. He hoisted her up and she was pressed into the cold, metallic filing cabinets. Occasionally she remembered she was supposed to be a good girl, a virgin, and mewed about how much it hurt. It was then that the cop looked down at her blushing, innocent face and suddenly felt some responsibility for her fate. And felt even more strongly a need for her to get out of his life so that his marriage and job would not be jeopardized. He decided then to find a way to get her out of her sentence.

* * *

"Richard, this is Garfield." Dr. Beecher took the arms of the two teens and motioned for them to sit down in any of the six lounge chairs arranged around the circular table. Her phone rang and she excused herself.  
Dick grunted, still thinking about his redheaded companion.  
Garfield's smile faltered for a moment, then found its place again.  
"I never thought _you_ would be here. You're practically a celebrity."  
"Do you want my autograph?" Dick said, looking thoroughly bored.  
"Haha, no thanks. Diggin' the the threads, dude."  
Richard looked down. He was wearing the Más o Menos shirt the duo had given him.  
"Um...are you a fan?" Garfield ventured to ask.  
"No, I'm a human boy." Richard chose to sit at the seat farthest from him, and Garfield let out a nervous laugh.  
"Whatever you say, man."  
Richard was deep in thought about Roy. _Could he keep the charade up and pretend to be a normal non-billionaire? When were they going to see each other now that he was stuck back here? Would Roy be angry with him failing to mention his true identity? He would need some grand gesture. _He filed each of these ideas to be mulled over later and then addressed the thought that had been nagging at him.  
"Your name is Garfield Logan."  
"Yeah?"  
"Son of Frederick Logan, the famous archeologist."  
"Yeah. That's me," Garfield said in a tone that did not welcome further conversation. Richard pressed on anyway.  
"Why are you here?"  
"Do you mean like 'what is my purpose in the universe' or like why I'm in this room with you? I'm kind of stuck here because I don't want to go back to jail. Though you're such a great conversationalist it almost makes me miss my cell mates."  
"Your father has enough clout to bail you out-why were you in jail in the first place?"  
Garfield's smile did not reach his eyes, "Because the chili's amazing, dude."  
At this, Dick maintained his trademark poker face, "I bet."  
"Garfield?" A deep voice called out. The door slid open to reveal the hulking boy who Dick had come to think of as the General.  
"Hi, Victor," Garfield grinned as he slid back into himself.  
"Oh," he said as he saw Dick, "You're here." He sat next to Garfield.  
"So? How were the bathrooms?" Garfield asked, his eyes twinkling.  
"They had hand drying machines instead of paper towels."  
"I know, right? This place rocks!" Garfield reclined into the leather chair and spun himself around lazily. Victor sat up straight on the edge of his seat as Dick watched them as a lion would his prey.  
There was a pregnant silence for what seemed like an eternity to Victor. He could feel Dick's eyes on him. He didn't like people looking at him. He normally wore hoodies to hide his mechanical parts, but the suit he was wearing did nothing to hide his marred face.  
Garfield saw Victor clench his fists. His brow furrowed as he tried once again to find the right words to say, but all that came from his mouth was a tuneless song.  
The door slid open once again. Terra walked bristly in. Garfield grinned and pulled himself up from his chair.  
"Nice to see you all again. This was supposed to be a session with the entire test team, but we'll start with you all today as scheduled. Hopefully we'll have everyone here by the end of this week."  
"You'll find that you have a lot more freedom at the tower than in prison. But we expect you to follow the few rules we have if you want to stay here. They are as follows: You must attend all scheduled tests and therapy sessions, and follow procedures. One of my jobs here is to keep track of your psychological progress. I can't do that unless you trust me and confide in me. I won't ask you about anything other than your drug use, and in exchange I need you to be completely honest with me. Everything we do here will be recorded, and you will /properly/ fill out reports on your treatment each week. Your living quarters are on the first floor. From now on, you five are family. You'll be living together and spending time together. Hopefully you'll encourage each other to get through rehabilitation. For some of the trial team, this process will be very, very difficult. Please be understanding and try to be kind. Your only job for now is to get well."

* * *

Kora's phone buzzed softly. She excused herself from the apartment for some ice.  
"Why the hell do you need ice?"  
"To cool me down."  
"Take a shower."  
"Would it not be suspicious if my hair was wet?"  
The officer began to worry after she did not return for ten minutes, but just as he rose from the bed to go out in search of her, she rapped at the door. They got ready to leave. Kora put on her heavy jacket, walked beside the officer in the now frigid air to where he had parked, and rode in the front passenger seat of the officer's car silently. He cursed that he would be late for dinner.  
"He which hath business and makes love, doth do such wrong as when a married man doth woo," she said dreamily.  
"What did you say?" He said irritably.  
"I said, how unfortunate it is that you are late. It is the fault of mine. But I am sure your wife will understand about your work."  
He huffily agreed it was her fault and gripped her arm with unnecessary force as he dragged her to the main desk at Titans Tower. The secretary got out of her chair to take Kora from him, "Thank you officer, you may leave now."  
Kora rubbed her arm. Finger-shaped bruises were beginning to flower on her skin.  
"She tried to escape my custody," he glared, "I finally caught her trying to buy shrooms on Westerfield Road. She's in your hands now."  
Kora glared at him. _The lying bastard._  
"Thank you very much for finding her for us," the secretary said cautiously.  
"If you'll excuse me, I'm late for dinner with my wife." He stormed out.  
The secretary hurriedly led her to the elevator just as the security dogs began to strain against their leashes.  
"Creep," she muttered as the doors closed.  
Kora snorted. The woman didn't know how right she was.  
Her phone buzzed silently again, and she texted back a quick message before turning it off.

* * *

"No, Garfield, that's a very good question. You will be able to leave the tower each day at-"  
The door slid open, and a tall, beautiful girl slinked in. She fluidly took off her heavy coat to reveal an outfit that barely clothed her.  
"Ah...hi. I'm Terra Markov, the psychologist here."  
"Hello! It is very nice to meet new friends. I am Kora," her smile was genuine, though Richard was the only one to notice it-everyone else was staring at her perfect boobs overspilling from her tight shirt.  
"I'm...name is Larfield Gogan," Garfield said, mesmerized. Victor jabbed his ribs, "I mean-my name is Garfield Logan."  
"It is nice to meet you."  
"I'm Victor Stone."  
"Dick."  
She tilted her head, "I think I have misheard you. What was your name?"  
"Dick."  
"Your parents named you after your penis?"  
Dick smirked, "Yes, because it was so exceptionally large."  
"Ah-that is, nice," she said.  
"Where are you from, Kora?" Terra asked.  
"I came with my sister from Germany a year ago. My English has never been good," she apologized.  
"No, you speak very well!" Terra exclaimed, "Please, sit down."  
Kora chose to sit next to Garfield as well.  
"The boys can fill you in on what we just discussed. I'm going to talk about Garfield's question now. You are allowed to leave the tower and do whatever you wish when you do not have classes, treatments, or tests scheduled. You will be tracked and immediately upon return you will be tested for any trace of drugs. If we find drugs in your system, your privilege of leaving the tower will be suspended."  
Kora raised her hand, "Will we get an allowance for our outings?"  
"I believe you will be given company credit cards when you go out with a starting limit of $30."  
Thirty dollars? Richard thought, That's barely enough for one meal.  
"If our project proves successful, you can expect that to increase. For now, though, $30 is your limit. Any other questions?"  
They shook their heads.  
"Great. Let's go on a tour of the tower."  
She led them to the elevator and pressed the button for the top floor.  
"This floor is entirely yours. You'll be spending most of your time here." Garfield and Victor's mouths hung open as they gazed upon the enormous plasma screen television. Kora admired the sleek furniture in the common room and squealed upon seeing the state-of-the-art kitchen.  
"Oh, how glorious!" she exclaimed.  
"Do you like to cook?" Terra asked.  
"Very, very much!" Kora beamed.  
Dick watched them run around like children. They were overjoyed that they would be living in what Dick assumed was the nicest place they'd ever seen. To untrained eyes, they seemed normal. One could easily overlook the pained expression that flitted across Victor's face, or the moments where Kora stared blankly at walls. Garfield, however, had no outward manifestations of drug use. Dick determined he was the most like him in the team-they were not serious users.  
"Your rooms are over here. You open the door with this hand sensor. Whichever room you choose will only open to your touch or with your own passcode."  
Terra led them across the hall, "This is the gym. You're expected to get a minimum of 30 minutes of exercise each day."  
Terra led them back to the elevator and showed them where they would go for each activity on their schedule.  
"Well, that's all for today. If you want you may leave the tower until your curfew. You have about two hours. Be sure to make it inside the tower by 10."  
But no one really wanted to go out this time. Kora, Garfield, and Victor were excited to spend their time in their new flat. Kora got started on a recipe in the kitchen and Garfield and Victor were trying to hook up an xbox to the giant TV. Dick retreated in to his room and stared at the picture on his phone.  
He typed the three letters in a daze and clicked send without realizing it.  
**D: Roy**  
**R: Yes?**  
Well, now he was stuck.  
**D: I wanted to apologize for my behavior today. I flipped out on you twice. I'm sorry.**  
**R: Apology accepted.**  
Dick really didn't want the conversation to end, but he didn't know what else to say.  
**D: Thanks.**  
He groaned and flopped on his he got up and practiced his form.  
A strange smell leaked in to his room. Smoke. He rushed out and ran to the kitchen.  
Kora was holding a pan of a disgusting blob of green and pink that was bursting in flames. She was smiling down at it as it bubbled and blackened.  
"Hey!" Dick shouted.  
Kora looked up at him, her eyes unfocused, "Hello, Friend Penis! I am making a most special dish."  
Dick cursed, "Are you seriously high right now? Do you know how many levels of stupid that is?"  
Kora ignored him, "This is called Blorgsnarg. It is a dish to be shared with friends."  
Dick grabbed the pan from her and slammed a dish on top of it to extinguish the flames.  
"How dare you ruin the meal I was preparing! I am Princess Koriand'r, and I will one day rule Tameran! Who are you?"  
"Richard Grayson of Wayne Enterprises, son of Bruce Wayne, the man who got your ass out of jail."  
She did not seem to hear him and looked up in wonder at some vision she was having about the ceiling. She had tied paper towels together in a makeshift crown and placed it on her head.  
"Daisies, daisies. Oopsies, daisies," she patted her head.  
Garfield and Victor heard the ruckus and rushed in.  
"Hey, what's going on?" Garfield asked.  
"I don't know how, but she's tripping."  
"Didn't she come straight from prison? How could she have any?"  
Victor spoke up, "It's not impossible to get them in prison if you know the right people."  
"Have you three come to pleasure me?" She had pulled her top off in one fluid motion and hooked Victor's hands to the belt loops of her shorts.  
The boys looked at each other silently for a moment.  
"No. She's tripping. That's not right," Victor said, gently detaching his hands from her jeans. She groaned and took off her shorts and underwear herself. Her body was magnificent.  
"Must I pleasure myself?" She pouted.  
"I mean...It's okay if we just watch_ that_, right?" Garfield whispered.  
Without warning, she pounced on Dick and kissed him squarely on the mouth. He looked dazed and confused.  
"Okay, guys. We're leaving right. NOW." Victor took the two immobile boys by the arms, dragged them away to the gym and closed the door.  
"Are we going to wait in here until she's done tripping? That could take hours!" Garfield complained.  
"Maybe if you weren't seriously considering shacking up with someone who isn't in their right mind," Victor countered.  
"I wasn't! I would never do that."  
"Well, you were seriously considering watching her get off."  
Garfield was silent.  
Though they couldn't see her get off, it was impossible not to hear her.  
"So," Garfield said after a particularly loud groan, "how was that kiss?"  
_I didn't enjoy it all, and now I'm fairly certain I'm gay._  
"Good."  
"Just good? Is that a typical celebrity response?" Garfield cried.  
"I've had better."  
Garfield shook his head.  
Dick used this time to work out and was alarmingly aggressive towards the punching bags. Garfield just stormed around muttering about how unfair it was that he was stuck here with two guys. Then out of sheer boredom he started turning on treadmills and sliding down them at full speed.

* * *

At midnight, Victor went out to see if it was safe to go to their respective bedrooms. He couldn't find Kora anywhere. He assumed that she had gone to bed and was about to turn back and tell the boys when from out of nowhere, she jumped on top of him. He fell flat on his back.  
"Hello, Victor," she smiled wickedly. She was still stark naked, her arms pinning him down.  
"Goodbye, Kora," he put her aside and got up.  
"Wait, I am not tripping anymore," she called out.  
He went in to the kitchen and picked up her clothes, "Then put these on."  
She did.  
"Could you go to your bedroom now please?"  
"Carry me," she yawned.  
He did.  
When he laid her down, she pulled him into her bed.  
"You did not stay to see the show," she said sleepily. Her hands cupped his face.  
"No," Victor said kindly as he got up.  
"Goodnight, Victor," her eyes were closed.  
"Goodnight, Kora," the door slid shut as he left.

* * *

"Okay, guys. The coast is clear." Victor said as he walked back into the gym. Garfield and Dick were both curled up on the mats fast asleep. He shrugged and laid down beside them.

* * *

**Reading such nice reviews makes me feel like writing for you guys all the time instead of doing more important schoolwork :') **

**I am the queen of most random update times LOL**

**Sorry, no Raven just yet. But tell me what you think about Kora and all the other characters! What do you think will happen next?**


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